Princess of the Sword Read Free Page B

didn’t need anyone to tell her where she was, for she could feel the magic that lingered behind in the chamber like a vile odor.

    Olc.

    She could scarce believe this was where Miach intended to begin his search, but apparently he had a better idea of what sort of spell they needed than she did.

    She forced herself to keep her focus part on Miach and part on the lad who lay snoring in front of the fire. The lad didn’t rouse, but Miach gave him no reason to. He was absolutely silent as he walked around the chamber, investigating nooks and crannies, running his finger over books on shelves.

    She watched him stop in front of a desk layered with manuscripts. She wondered how he could even touch things that made her ill just by being in the same chamber with them. Olc was an evil magic. She’d seen it worked—and worked it herself a time or two, unfortunately—and that had been enough to convince her that she wanted nothing to do with it.

    Mochriadhemiach of Neroche had, she had decided in the past month, a depth to him that she suspected she would never plumb. It was reassuring somehow to have an idea of what he could endure.

    And how quickly he could move.

    She realized he’d leapt across the chamber only because he was shoving her back into a wardrobe—and he was doing that because there were voices that had stopped outside the chamber door and a key was being fitted into the lock. The doorknob squeaked as it turned. Morgan found herself backed into a coat hook and had to put her hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp of pain. She didn’t dare move after that.

    Actually, remaining still wasn’t all that difficult. She was so terrified—she who had fought countless battles and never once puked in fear—that all she could do was stand there, hunched over and frozen, and pray she would live to see the other side of the next half hour without giving herself away by some untoward noise. At least Miach had managed to pull the door almost completely to so they wouldn’t be easily seen. Unfortunately, she could still easily hear the voices on the other side of the heavy wood.

    It would appear the master of the chamber had come back for the night. Morgan closed her eyes and wondered if she should have worked a bit harder to convince Miach this was a very bad idea indeed. She remembered vividly the conversation they’d had as they’d been leaving the safety of the inn.

    And if they find you’ve slipped over the walls? she’d asked.

    They won’t.

    And if they do, she’d insisted. What then?

    He’d been long in answering. He had finally sighed heavily and looked at her. Death .

    Even for you? she’d asked in surprise.

    I can stand against many, Morgan, but not against all the masters of Buidseachd at once .

    He hadn’t offered any other details, but she hadn’t needed him to. If he was caught, he would be thrown to the masters of Buidseachd and they would fall upon him mercilessly. She had no doubt she would defend him as best she could, but in the end, she supposed she would be overpowered as well, then they would both be subjected to whatever wizardly punishment the masters thought fit.

    Death, she suspected, might be the more pleasant alternative.

    The hook poking into her shoulder was terribly painful, but she ignored it. Harder to ignore was the stiffening of her back and the cramping of the muscles of her legs. She didn’t move, though. She also didn’t dare hope that the master of Olc would suddenly lose interest in retiring to his very comfortable solar for the night. She imagined he would soon be finished arguing with whomever he’d brought with him, then settle onto his sofa with a glass of wine and consider in a leisurely fashion all the ways he could make the final moments of intruders as miserable as possible.

    She wasn’t sure being trapped hunched over in a wardrobe shouldn’t have had a prominent place on that list, but she wasn’t about to suggest it to him. She closed her